Strange and Charmed
by SpaceAnJL
Summary: *New Ficlet* Non-chronological TPP-verse ficlets. Fluffy little future ficlet.
1. Home on the Range

Strange and Charmed

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Home on the Range...

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Sheldon closes his eyes. Opens them. He knows that this will not make the...creature disappear. But he can hope that in that one instant of time when the universe is destroyed and recreated, that somehow it might see fit to take that...thing back into the void, reduce it to subatomic particles...

No.

The toy is still...looking at him. It is a biological impossibility. It is meant to represent an even-toed ungulate of the subfamily Bovinae. Except that it is grinning. And it has a little sweater.

He reaches out a long-fingered hand, closes it around the interloper upon his keyboard.

"Do you like him?" Penny's voice startles him.

"Penny, this item is neither useful nor aesthetically pleasing, I do not possibly see why..." Then he sees the name appliqued on the sweater.

His startled little snort of laughter, and her giggle.

***

Leonard pauses, stares at Sheldon's desk. The lanky figure remains intent on his screen.

"Sheldon, why have you got a toy bison on your desk?"

Sheldon rolls his eyes.

"That should be obvious, Leonard. Penny bought him for me, and I felt it incumbent upon me to show some consideration for her gift. Besides," (And Leonard is sure that he is hiding a smile,) "she named him Higgs. There may be hope for her yet."


	2. Asynchronous Notification Continuation

A/N – Because Jim Parsons looks good in brown... ;)

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The Asynchronous Notification Continuation(*)

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New Year's Eve, and Austin Powers, Luke Skywalker and a mime artist are loitering in the kitchen, waiting for their designated driver to come across the hall.

"...so my girlfriend Bernadette is meeting me there." 'Austin' adjusts his collar. "I'm feeling groovy, baby. What's with your costume, anyway, Raj?"

"It was Penny's idea. This way when I can't talk to women, I have an ex....mmmfff."

Penny, who has just let herself in through the front door, gives him an understanding smile and a little wave. Raj waves weakly back.

"Nice lateral thinking." Howard acknowledges. Leonard looks at Penny, frowns slightly.

"I thought you were going with a sci-fi theme."

"Oh, I am." Penny has her hair up in little bunches, and a pair of battered green overalls on, under a bright little silk coatee. Raises her voice. "C'mon, Sheldon, show-time."

"Alrighty..."

A door bangs open, and Leonard suddenly finds a pistol pointed at his face. He yelps, reels back into Raj and Howard, a three-nerd pile-up.

They all blink at the sight before them. Sheldon Cooper in boots, tan pants and suspenders, chocolate-brown shirt and the iconic Browncoat itself.

Raj squeaks urgently in Howard's ear.

"Yep, this _must_ be what going mad feels like." Howard agrees.

Sheldon manages a credible smirk as he reholsters his pistol.

"I am still not quite sure why you deemed this particular outfit appropriate, Penny."

"Hey, you guys have your fandoms, I have mine." Penny sighs happily, stands on tiptoe and kisses his cheek. "I love my Captain."

The collective audience wait for Sheldon to flail and shriek. But Sheldon merely flushes, and bites his lip. Offers Penny his elbow.

"Well, then, I believe we have a shindig to attend."

"Now something about that is just downright unsettling." Howard mutters.

No, thinks Leonard wildly, as the battery in his lightsabre gives out, _this_ is what going mad feels like.

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(*) ie Can't Stop The Signal


	3. Swings and Roundabouts

Swings and Roundabouts

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"...it's okay, Leonard, sweetie, lots of people get sick on fairground rides."

"The waltzer is hardly a challenge." Sheldon remarks.

"Okay, mister, guess that means that _you're_ coming on the rollercoaster with me, then."

She smirks. He glares. She makes a soft clucking noise. His eyes narrow.

"Oh, very well. Leonard, you mind Archimedes." And Leonard is left sitting on the bench with the large toy gorilla. He sighs. It's the first peaceful moment he's had all day...

There had been the fortune-teller's tent...

"...destiny has something to do with Gemini, which is really odd, because I am _so_ not compatible..."

"...delusional rubbish, based on no scientific principles whatsoever...I spent half my childhood trying to persuade Missy of the idiocy of it..."

Leonard had been caught in the middle of that one, and had actually elected to go inside the tent for a reading simply to escape the row.

Sheldon had won the dart toss, his height an advantage. Penny was better with the coconut shy. A childhood of Little League pitching, and the barker's smile had dropped as swiftly as the cans. The Whack-a-mole was simply terrifying.

"I don't quite understand the motivation here..."

"I'm pretending they're you, sweetie..."

Sheldon's eyes had narrowed. But within a minute, he'd got the mallet himself.

"Kripke!" _smack_ "Winkle!" _smack_ "Wheaton!" _smack.._.

"_That's_ the idea."

His answering grin was horrifying.

Penny had wanted the big toy gorilla that was the star prize in the shooting gallery...

"You already have one small hairy hominid, Penny, why would you want another one?"

"Shut up, Sheldon. He's kinda cute." She gets three out of the five shots.

"You're pulling way to the left."

"You think you can do better?" she had demanded, slapping down another dollar.

And then of course Sheldon had insisted on stripping the gun down before he would shoot it. It was rather like that scene in 'Forrest Gump', his fingers quick and sure, even as he lectured the protesting stall barker on fraudulent practice. He had then proceeded to blow hell out of every target in there. The man had given up and handed the toy over, and then turned them all out.

They had spent the next half an hour negotiating a custody agreement, ("My shooting", "My dollar") so Leonard had ended up sharing a seat with it on the Ferris wheel – Sheldon's lecture on engineering stresses and accident statistics ceasing only when he looked down, whimpered and passed out.

Leonard prefers not to even think about the Dodgems...

"This is simply an accident waiting to happen."

"So are you in a normal car, sweetie." Smirk. "Just pretend it's downtown. You can park in the pet-shop again."

Ah, well. Leonard leans back on the bench. At least when they have screamed themselves hoarse on the rollercoaster , he won't have to listen to them bickering in the car on the way home.


	4. Original of the Species

a/n – for the purposes of this fic, I am assuming that The Cheesecake Factory occupies two floors, a general seating area downstairs, and the bar area above.

Original of the Species

Upstairs, the bar area is closed off during the day, the room turned over to private functions. Today, of all days, that is a Birthday Party. Phyllis, the Assistant Manager, pulls her hand down over her face, eyes the assembled troops.

"You know the normal party drill - We get a dozen screaming rug-rats on a sugar rush, tearing the place up and tossing their cookies all over the furniture. At least one of 'em will wet themselves, and there's always some little sweetheart wants to kick the crap out of another one."

"Does someone have to wear an...Outfit this time?" Terry asks nervously. There is a collective shudder.

"Nah. 'Fraid we've got a clown." Claps her hands over the groans. "Usual OT scale for the clean-up today. Stations."

0000000000

Sheldon has been told NOT to greet the customers, after the third party come through the door, come face to face with that...smile, and turn around again. One small child has burst into tears. In fact, he has been told to just collect the trays, and not to talk to anybody if he can help it. Banned from the sanitary facilities, the office computers, the kitchen and the common staff areas, he has quite a limited area to work within.

The imminent party does mean that his erstwhile friends have departed, Leonard and Raj foregoing their mockery of him to mock Howard, who has severe coulrophobia. The respite has given him a chance to organize his thoughts, and he feels that he has a handle on the solution now...

The sounds of small people creating havoc filters down from above. Sheldon remembers this particular form of purgatory from his own childhood. Being forced to participate in moronic jollity with those of his peer group, a mutual loathing exacerbated by proximity. So he's really not surprised to find a child hesitating on the stairwell. There is something in the set of the shoulders that resonates. He pauses, clears his throat.

"Are you...going to be unwell? Because I would ask that you use the washroom if that is the case."

"I don't like clowns." The child says, looking up the stairs.

"Few sensible people do." Sheldon agrees. He has been subjected to the experience, the inane grin and the gormless antics. It is better than having your face pushed into your cake at your own eighth birthday party, but not by much.

"I wanted to stay home and read my book. It was about dinosaurs."

"Jurassic or Cretaceous?"

The child looks puzzled. Sheldon huffs, fishes in his pocket for a pen.

00000000

Five minutes later, another child peers down the stairs.

"Why are you drawing on the wall?"

Sheldon looks up the stairs, smiles in recognition.

"Rebecca. You like monkeys."

"You're the man from the bookstore." She smiles back.

"Do you wish to join us? Early primates would be about...here." He indicates a step, holds out another pen. "You may draw some monkeys if you like."

0000000000

By the time Penny's spider-sense has told her that Sheldon has been out of her sight for more than his regulation bathroom break, there are half a dozen children quietly and carefully drawing dinosaurs and cavemen and knights and rockets on the wall, while Sheldon strides up and down the stairs, correcting things and talking busily.

"...and about _here_ would be when the Egyptians built the pyramids..." Spiders down into a crouch and begins sketching.

Penny claps a hand across her mouth.

"_Shel_-don."

"Hello, Penny." He says cheerfully. (Several small voices parrot the greeting.)

"What are you doing?"

"We are creating an approximate time-line to demonstrate the evolutionary process."

"You can't..."

"Hey, hey, hey, little people..."

Pogo, becoming aware that his reluctant audience is shrinking, has come to reclaim his victims.

One of the girls squeals, and darts behind Sheldon, and he can feel a hand clutching his pants leg. Looking up at the creature at the top of the stairs, he is not sure that he blames her. Wild hair, clothing that even Sheldon finds little too garish, brandishing handfuls of squeaking, germ-filled rubber.

"...you want to come back, watch Pogo make balloon animals? Everyone likes balloons."

Thrusts a deformed...thing at Sheldon's face. Sheldon stares at it. Then he moves his pen decisively.

"I don't, particularly." He says. "And I don't think anyone else here does, either."

The man shakes stinging fingers, bites back a curse, suddenly aware of the interested faces watching him.

"You really don't want to come and watch Pogo? You'll make Pogo sad." Mimes an unhappy face, which Penny thinks is actually scarier than Sheldon's smile. Two more children edge behind the first.

"I think it is your presence which is making them sad, Mr...Pogo. You may return to making your asinine little creatures if you wish, but we will be furthering our education here. Good-day to you, sir."

Penny is all set to kick Mr Creepy out on his ass if he takes a pop at Sheldon, but the man looks around, throws up his hands.

"Meh, I got paid in advance for this gig." Shrugs. "You little horrors would rather scribble on the walls than watch me, I'm not caring, y'know..."

"We are hardly 'scribbling'." Sheldon says, crossly. "Granted, the standard of the artwork is variable, but it is after all a rough diagram, and not intended as a true representative image."

"Whatever. Enjoy, buddy. I'm gone." Shoulders past the indignant scientist, already digging in his pants pocket for his cigarettes. The children relax, turn back to the wall. Most of them, anyway.

Sheldon's hand hesitates, gingerly pats the small head still buried in his side.

"There, there." He manages. "The unamusing individual has departed."

Turns wide helpless eyes on Penny. She badly wants to laugh, but she squats down.

"Yeah, the creepy clown has gone. You can let go of Sheldon now."

The child reluctantly detaches herself. Hell with it, Penny thinks.

"You wanna sit with me, and we'll draw something...." Grins suddenly. "We'll go to the top of the stairs, draw Sheldon."

Wishes she was a good enough artist to capture the expression on his face, at the enthusiastic responses from around her.

"Right at the top of the stairs." he instructs her. "I am, after all, the pinnacle of evolution."

_Because sometimes, just sometimes, the astronauts win..._

0000000000

The last child has been collected by bemused parents. Sheldon is still squatting halfway up the stairs, muttering to himself. He's progressed to equations, now. Penny twists her hands in her apron, wonders how she's going to explain this.

"Considerin' what we normally hafta mop up, scrubbing down a wall is no big deal." Phyllis grins. "Just get him outta here before the Manager comes in."

Sheldon turns a delighted smile to Penny, as he takes a last camera shot of his work.

"I might venture to say - Eureka." Deep satisfaction.

(Penny herself takes one picture. A long stick figure, drawn with a stripy top and crossed arms, surrounded by crazy little greek symbols, letters and numbers, and something that could be an atom, but if you look at it another way, might just be a flower-blossom...)


	5. O Captain, My Captain

O Captain, My Captain

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She's used to comic-collecting, 'Halo'-playing, sci-fi enthusiasts.

She's not used to them being famous.

It's a bit part, one scene and a handful of lines, and she's only on set for one day, but somehow, she doesn't even know how it happened, she ends up spending the time between the takes kicking ass at 'Halo' with a very unlikely partner. Her fangirl ditzing lasts as long as it takes him to blow her up, cackling, and then it's _on_.

Shooting runs over, and of course Sheldon turns up for his lift to the comic store, and has to be extracted from the clutches of security. She fields the usual "Is he real?" reactions that Sheldon elicits, explains that yes, he is, no, he's not dangerous, just a bit...socially challenged, and no, he's not _special_, he's just really, really smart, thank you very much. And then, before they both get thrown off the lot, her 'Halo' buddy turns up to see where his 'favourite gun-bunny' has got to.

Sheldon's eyes go really wide for a moment, and then he nods his head, says simply "Captain."

But there is mention of 'Halo', and then mention of the comic store, and then some kind of horrible mutual admiration kicks in, the guy code in action.

She wonders what her life has become, that she's in a room with a couple of cute guys, and they are enthusiastically co-operating to hunt her down and shoot her, and geeking excitedly at each other about which super-power they most want.

And at what point Sheldon became one of the cute guys.

Yeah, she thinks, drawing a bead and taking them both out, this is my life. How weird is that?


	6. The Galadriel Gallantry

a/n - missing scene from 03.17 'The Precious Fragmentation' - because I wanted to see this happen... (and there is an illustration 'Gallant Queen Penelope' by renisanz at deviantArt)

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Penny sighed, slumped down on her couch, kicked off her shoes. Man, what a day. Tuesdays were always a little weird. (Six foot of weird, normally.) Fishes into the collar of her blouse and pulls out the chain. Looks at the ring.

A movie prop. Like she doesn't know. She's a frickin' actress. She works in the industry. (Not much, but she's got friends, y'know. She'll catch a break one day.) So she didn't catch on right away about Stan Lee. If he'd said – 'creator of Spiderman, y'know, the Raimi film with Tobey Maguire', that, she'd get. And no, the name Adam West wasn't immediately familiar, but she knows the show. Saturday morning re-runs, waiting to go play catch with her Pop. They'd have breakfast together, matching ballcaps. She doesn't know quite the same stuff they do, but she comes at it from a different angle.

(Leonard's never given her anything before. He doesn't even buy flowers.)

She supposes that if they'd given it to Sheldon, he'd probably be trying to annihilate the Armies of the West by now. All scary supervillain cackling. She doesn't doubt who will win in a battle of wills with those guys – been around them too long. It was kinda nice to see them geeking out together again – been a while since they seemed that comfortable round each other.

She holds it up. It's kinda pretty, really. She smiles. There's nobody around to see. Stands up and strikes a dramatic pose.

"In the place of a Dark Lord you would have a Queen! Not dark but beautiful and terrible as the Morn! Treacherous as the Seas! Stronger than the foundations of the Earth! All shall love me and despair!"

(Outside the door, Sheldon, fist poised to knock, pauses...

...Queen Penelope, clad in white, holding the One Ring, tall and golden and perfect. Smiling upon the warrior who brought it to her...

...Heat in his cheeks, he backs away from the door. No, he won't disturb her.)


	7. Calligraphy

He talks of Chinese philosophy, of the Way, of morality of deed and mind, as his long fingers trace pictograms down her spine...

"Honour, loyalty, virtue...soup."

"_Shel_don..."

"Bazinga." he murmurs, heavy-lidded eyes, crooked smile, and when did he learn to be so sexy?

So she holds him down, and sharpies a heart with her initials, mark of her ownership on his pale skin. Laughs at him twisting around, trying to see down over his own shoulder and fretting about it.

"Nobody else will see it, Sheldon."

"I should hope not." He's indignant. "Branding me like livestock."

"You've been a maverick long enough."

Sheldon's glare softens as he looks at the woman sprawled and laughing in the bed. She put her mark on him long ago, far more subtle and so much deeper than mere ink on skin.


	8. Secret Crowds

He is in his office, the penthouse suite of the Shelcorp Tower, looking across his domain.

Sheldonopolis should be a city of perfect order. The streets are a grid, the buildings neat, elegant, glass and chrome and steel. Everywhere is clean and quiet. This is where he retreats, this is where he dreams. Here, he is in charge, his will absolute.

There shouldn't be screams, a shadow across the streets, people running.

Penny is terrifying when she's her normal size. At fifty foot tall, she's wreaking dreadful havoc. The woman is a menace to traffic whether she is driving in it, or stamping on it. She only stops when she pauses to check her reflection in the mirrored windows of the Shelcorp Tower, and he can glare at her, as she checks her white teeth, fusses with her long eyelashes, runs her tongue over her full lips...

A hand reaches in through the window...

"You're in my office, people can't be in my office..."

"I'm not people..." Her voice is surprisingly sweet, quiet, "Come out into the sunshine, Sheldon. It's a beautiful day."

"I..." Her hand around him, a gentle cage, and he is lifted above his world, can see the small, sharp lines, the rigid monochrome.

He hates heights, whimpers, clings to her thumb.

"Relax, Sheldon. I won't let you fall."

"Penny, stop this at once. This is your last strike..." Pleads with her, "This is my world, and you're disturbing it."

"Maybe your world needs disturbing, Moon-pie..."

She sits herself down in the centre of Sheldon Square, and looks around her.

"You need some colour round the place."

Pavements buckle, ripple, the neat paving forced apart, tendrils of green snaking their way towards a sun which is somehow growing brighter, warmer. And then suddenly, all at once, they bloom...not the colours of nature, but bright, vibrant, joyful colours, glitter and a echo of song as the flowers open.

Giant Penny picks one, and tucks it behind her ear.

Maybe he grows taller, maybe she shrinks, but she is Penny again, as she always is, that soft tumbled hair somewhere around his shoulder height, all laughing eyes and the bright smile that he didn't know he missed, and this is his dream, he can bend forward in a dream, and she smiles at him, and....

….he's never hated an alarm clock so much in his life.

(Later, he turns on his computer, opens an old program. Tinkers quietly with it. And when he closes it again, in the heart of that tidy grid, there's a small park, a riot of colour. He calls it Penny Plaza. Nobody else will ever know.)


	9. All Tomorrow's Parties

She could blame that white tuxedo. Or the wine. Or the fact that she had a major, major crush on Jareth when she was like, twelve...

The ballroom is straight out of Disney, all pillars and mirrors and acres of white floor...

...This is what a ballroom should be. Not plywood tables under cheap covers, folding chairs and tacky carpet...

And she's at the top of the stairs, and she's not Penny, she's Sarah, she's Cinderella, pacing down the stairs with all admiring eyes upon her.

...this is the dress that should have been, not cheap dime-store and polyester, not short and tight and look at me, this is the dress she wears in her dreams, princess, heroine, clean and sweet and innocent again...

She's beautiful, graceful, delicate, light on her feet in slippers made of silk, glass, moonbeams, and this is a dream, she can waltz in her dreams, light as a feather in his arms.

Are his shoulders this broad in real life? His arms are this long, she knows the feel of them around her, and her hand is lost in his. Knows those long fingers, too, delicate and strong.

Looking _up_ to see her partner's face, and she isn't surprised. It would be him. Always him.

"You don't dance." She says.

"For you, I do." Blue eyes, and a smile that she knows she has seen in the waking world, but not for a long while now.

This is what _he_ should be, too. Dignified and strong.

She stretches up on tiptoe, he bends his long neck, awkward and elegant as he always is, and somehow, they meet somewhere in the middle.

...this is a dream, she can kiss him in dreams, he'll kiss her in her dreams, all those times she has found herself looking at that beautiful mouth of his, that full lower lip, fine-cut and his jaw just darkened with stubble, this is what it must be like...

It's suddenly midnight, and the chimes break the world apart, spinning shards of time and reality, and she's falling through darkness and soft owl's feathers...

...hits her bed with a thump, jerks awake.

The dream slips away, and beside her, her bedmate stirs. And Penny sighs, bites her lip and turns her face into the pillow.


	10. Dance With The One That Brought You

Someone puts 'Don't Be Stupid' on the sound system, and someone goofs a few line-dance steps. And of course Mr Know-it-all..._Dr_ Know-it-all huffs and points out the inaccuracy. So he gets dragged up by a couple of her friends...

She's watching Sheldon Cooper line-dance. There are things the brain can't cope with. And if Candi, or Suki, or whatever the hell her name is, gets any closer to him, there's gonna be...a regrettable freakin' _incident_, is what.

Shoulders her way up, elbows and attitude, gives Miss Thing a glare.

"Making friends, Moon-pie?"

"I believe her name is Bambi."

"Huh." Penny shows her teeth. "Well, you know what I can do to a deer."

The other girl backs off fast.

"Why would you wish to...oh." He blinks. "Was she 'hitting on me'?"

"Oh, yeah."

And Sheldon, her Sheldon, looks cross and merely says,

"Ridiculous. Everybody knows that I am your boyfriend."

Well, yeah, they do. But she still makes him slow-dance with her, just to make the point.


	11. Absence of Reason

(inspired by 'In Which There is Glompage', by renisanz at deviantArt)

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He doesn't do things without care, without planning. He is not an impulsive man. He is certainly not the type of man who finds himself stepping into a small store and purchasing something as ridiculous as a pair of earrings.

But. In the midst of the sensible precision of all the watches on display, the neat fire of jewelled clasps, orderly and organized pairings of hoops and studs and cufflinks...

Bright, silly little things, one of them slightly askew on the velvet cushion. Tells himself it was this disorder that drew his eye. Unlike the elegant restraint around them, sharp cut gems or cool pearls, these are cloisonné, red and yellow, as out of place as a laugh in a library.

The weight of the little package in his pocket, out of all proportion to the tiny wrap of paper. Three days of waiting, and wondering, and twitching, and moving them from pocket to pocket, hand straying every so often to check that they are still there. Revolting entendres, too crude to even be considered double, from Wolowitz and the others, ignored.

Saturday, and laundry night, and his usual articulation deserting him. She's sitting on the dryer, sandals discarded. Notes, irrelevant, she has painted her toes, pink glitter. No excuses, no reason, no other desire but to see that way she has of biting her lip, her eyes growing wide, her soft noise of delight.

She puts them in immediately, and he is glad he thought to disinfect them before he rewrapped them, impounds the discarded hoops before she dumps them on some germ-laden dryer...

She beckons him closer with a finger, smiles, and then, when he is about to lean forward for a chaste peck, she bounces off the dryer, arms and legs, causes him to stagger, squeak. Unsure of where to put his hands, but she is either going to end up on the floor, or dislocate his neck, so he slides his hands up under her thighs, a compromise.

"You are paying for my chiropractic bills if there are any repercussions from this." He tells her.

And then, she's kissing him, soft and tender, and he doesn't care any more, kissing her back.

In amongst the sensible precision of his life, she is the one element of chaos. There is no logical reason for him to love her. But he does.


	12. Guitar Song

a/n – missing scene from 'The Guitarist Amplification'

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Penny sees Leonard off to work from her place next morning.

Behind the front door of 4A, something is being picked out, resolves into the opening chords of 'Everlong'.

They both pause, waiting for the querulous protest. It doesn't come, so they figure that Sheldon has already gone to work.

Strange to see Justin again, after...nearly five years, since she and Kurt dropped out of college and headed for L.A. But the 'Huskers stick together, anytime one of them hits the city, there's a call round, who has a floor. She got the hit this time, had said 'yes' before she thought it through. (Story of so many things in her life.) And there he was, same long, lanky frame that she remembered, dark hair longer and the beard was new, but same blue-green eyes crinkling with amusement, probably the same grungy band tee, as well.

Certain rules in their High School, who was cool, who was not. Being in a band was cool enough. It hadn't been a big thing, they hooked up a few times, but... she was gonna be the one with people waiting for her after the show, and he was gonna be touring.

Now, she's waiting tables and he's looking for session work, but he's still playing, still carrying round that battered Fender he calls 'Matilda'. Chasing a dream, and being honest to himself.

Penny thinks maybe she should call her agent, see if there's anything new, any auditions this side of Christmas. There just doesn't seem to be the time, now, between work shifts, and Leonard. He likes to spend time with her, that's normal. She can forgo the odd commercial that she's unlikely to get, it isn't like it's a big part or anything.

She wants to knock, to go over, listen... but she's still finding her way in this thing with Leonard, doesn't want to rock the boat any more. Doesn't like to fight. (Doesn't want to admit why, those large, solemn eyes looking up at her.) It will be different this time, and surely it's a good thing Leonard was jealous, it means he cares, doesn't it?

He's looking at her out of the corners of his eyes, mouth tight, so she pastes a smile, and kisses him, and turns back into her own apartment, shuts the door.

00000000

Sheldon lifts his fingers off the strings, flexes them. It's been a long time since he played a full-sized guitar, not the 'Rock Band' controller. (Gig had inherited their father's old steel six-string. Sheldon got the battered travel chess-set.)

Justin nods appreciatively. He sees what Penny means when she called this guy a 'freaky genius', but hey, the dude has a hand span makes the F chord a walk in the park, he had to see that in action. Besides, however freaky he might be, plaid pj's and all, he's not the one been giving Justin the stinkeye.

...By the time Justin leaves, a couple of days later, Sheldon not only knows definitely who Radiohead are, but he can do a good rendition of 'Fake Plastic Trees'. Though personally, he finds he prefers the work of Grohl or Buck...


	13. Music To Watch Girls By

There has been a private party upstairs. Adults, not children, so the clean-up is not too severe, Penny and Bernadette wiping the last of the tables down. They've had company, too. The keyboard had been left set up, and they've both been serenaded as they work. (Howard had been a little surprised by the figure already waiting by the door, and then thought he shouldn't be. Both of them would deny being whipped to their very last breath, and both of them know that they so are.)

Howard has proved to be surprisingly good, not just popular music, but a classical repertoire, too. He looks quite different when he's concentrating, eyes half-shut as he plays from memory, face sober.

"Piano lessons as a kid." He admits, a little embarrassed at the praise. "Your turn, Sheldon."

When Sheldon had first sat down, Penny had been expecting a show-tune, and he'd surprised her, all of them, when the first chords resolved into R.E.M's 'Nightswimming'. He had the voice for it, too.

She was never sure how much of the ignorance of popular stuff was an act. Showbiz is a bust, at least in terms of reality shows and sitcoms. But most movies and anything sci-fi, no problem. And they play 'Rock Band', after all, something has to stick. So between them, they've had show tunes and Tom Lehrer, (Penny has learnt 'The Element Song' by heart, now - it makes the car-games easier,) alt-rock, a little Mozart, and a good deal of Motown.

"Play something we can dance to." Penny suggests, now.

He looks thoughtful for a moment, then he smiles, fingers moving sure over the keys. Penny laughs when she recognizes the tune. What else but 'The Blue Danube'? Howard gives a florid bow, offers his hand to Bernadette.

"Would you care to dance?"

"I'm not sure how..."

Bernadette, her little face serious as she looks down at Howard's feet, as he teaches her to waltz. Sheldon watches them. Then he darts a quick look across at Penny, and the corners of his mouth turn up. Penny has moulded her hands to an invisible partner, twirling slowly across the floor, chin up and smiling sweetly. (Memory of family parties, standing on her grandfather's feet as a small child... ) Aware of his gaze, as she always is, even on a stage, she opens one eye, grins across at him. He smiles back, lets the gentle melody flow out from under his fingers.

(They don't know it, but the invitation to Missy's wedding is in the mail, and in a couple of months, they will find themselves dancing under a summer moon, trying not to tread on each other's toes, but smiling softly and utterly uncaring.)


	14. Father and Son

George Jubal Cooper had no time for any man that beat his kids. And he would no more raise his hand to his wife than Mary would have ever stood to let him do it. Any more than she would have stood by and let him get behind the wheel when he was fighting his demons.

(Some use prayer, some use the bottle, and some use the truth.)

George Cooper was big and strong, and good at fixing trucks. He could shoot straight, and he was sound in wind and limb. Wouldn't even cross his mind to dodge the draft – his country called him, and he went. Did his tour, and most of him came back – (left a part of his soul somewhere in the mud and heat) – gaunt and hollow-eyed, and not all of his scars visible. But he married Mary, whose letters had kept him sane, and then there was little George Jubal Junior, kicking like a frog and yelling for 'Da', and that kept the darkness at bay as much as the liquor. Didn't need a head doctor to tell him he wasn't right any more – stood to reason, a man cannot kill and remain unmarked, because his country might tell him it was his duty, and God might forgive him, but he might never forgive himself. And then there were the twins, his pretty bright-eyed daughter, and his solemn younger son. They had a dark thought that maybe the boy was an idiot, he was that quiet – except it turned out he wasn't an idiot, he just thought things through so deeply he went out the other side.

George worried about him. Because the world didn't let you stand by and look at it, it would knock you down in the mud and march right over you. You had to be able to take it on, defend yourself against it. Tried to teach the boy, all he knew, and he knew too that it wasn't enough, wasn't what he needed, but it was all he had to give.

'Genius'. Well, it's a word. Means squat in practical terms, except you got real used to being woken up in the small hours by strange smells or small explosions (flung back across a lifetime, and reaching for a gun that isn't there before your mind comes into the now.) Learn to look carefully before you step, too, and an ache in your collar-bone to remind you about it. Or sitting by a hospital bedside while a small, serious face, all eyes, tells you that it didn't mean for whatever went wrong this time to do so. (Set the damn guinea-pig on fire – set himself on fire, the once.) The Public Library for the first time, and the panic when they couldn't find him in the Children's Section, found him somewhere in Reference, with a couple of startled and amused scholars. Wanting to know 'why' and it made a man feel helpless, not to be able to answer, to be the all-knowing god-presence who would always keep them safe.

He understood his other children. Talking football and mending engines, a copy of himself without the blood and darkness, and a girl that had all her mother's sass, his princess. But he didn't understand his odd, clever son.

Didn't mean he didn't love the boy fiercely, though. Even when the kid handed him his ass at chess.


	15. Stamp'N'Go

"Why has all the rum gone?"

"Because you drank it all." Sheldon takes the bottle out of Penny's waving hand before she brains him with it.

"Beth helped." She grins at him. "Aaarr!"

Sheldon rolls his eyes, but can't stop the edges of his own smile. He's fairly sure that Penny's costume owes far more to Hollywood than to history, but there is no denying that she makes a very shapely pirate wench, from the tight breeches and thigh boots to the red bandanna round her bright hair.

Sheldon never needs much persuading to dress up, and he's handier with a needle than Penny. His own costume is a fair rendition of nineteenth century 'slops', blue breeches and waistcoat over a loose shirt.

(He doesn't know it, but he is the spitting image of his ancestor. Joseph Lee had been a wild lad, run away to sea young, to save being priested. Had a flair for languages and a nose for trouble. It was always said he'd rather talk than fight, but he was a dead shot, and a fair terror with a blade, too. Other crew useta laugh at his fancy ways, insisting on shaving and clean linen, but there was no denying that it made him popular with the ladies, shoes spit-shined and a neat neckerchief for visitin'. His present day descendant has shorter hair, and his gold earring is a clip, but the same appreciative gleam lights his blue eyes when he sees his own true lass.)

Given that the StormFist like to party, it is hardly surprising that Beth and Sven have opened up their house for the day, and that the quiet little street has been swarmed by a most villainous crew of cutthroats and buccaneers. A few tiny pirates have been shrilling about, whacking at adult knees with balloon cutlasses, but now they have been borne away, and the mood is changing. It isn't until a tall figure scrambles up onto the garden table and starts an impromptu singalong that Beth and Penny realise that some enterprising soul has 'upgraded' the fruit punch.

He's leading a rousing chorus of a surprisingly dirty sea shanty. At least he's a happy drunk. (Though if anyone is taking his pants off tonight, it's going to be her.) Luckily, the table is a sturdy rustic one.

"Ahoy, me beauty." He flourishes a nearly empty tankard.

"Sheldon, get down off the table."

"But I'm singing." He pouts.

"And why are you singing?"

"Oh." He thinks about it. "'M I drunk again?"

"A little bit."

"Whoops."

"Get down before you..eek!"

Penny finds herself being boosted up beside her boyfriend, Sven and Dan turning traitor. Sheldon grins at her, that slightly wicked, crazed look of his.

"One more song?" Emboldened, he appeals to the crowd. "What say ye, lads? Another round?"

"Aye!" A roar of approval.

"Honey, you are going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow."

"You'll look after me?"

"Yeah," Penny kisses up under his jaw, "I'll look after you."

Sheldon flourishes his tankard again, and this time, Penny joins in the singing.

00000000

Later, much later, when the barbecue has died to a mere glimmer in the dark, and the street has returned to quiet respectability, Sven motions to his wife with silent glee, and they both peer into the garden hammock.

The Dread Pirate Cooper has 'Bad Penny' Sorenson snuggled up against him, and both of them are sound asleep.


	16. Drinking With Klingons

_...Though she's promised to go to Dragon*con. Sven and Sheldon both want to be part of some world record attempt. Beth and Penny have both very cautiously agreed to wear outfits, but only if they have a power of veto...(TPP Ch 36.)_

a/n – Dragon*Con 2010 broke the World Record for 'Most Costumed Star Trek Fans'.

.

.

There has never been any question as to what Sheldon would wear; there is no doubt that he looks somehow right with pointed ears. Leonard has gone with command gold, and Raj and Howard are trying not to read anything into their matching redshirts.

Penny has been keeping her costume a secret. Sheldon had fretted, but she had promised him that it would be accurate and appropriate.

"I still think she'd make a good Yeoman Rand." Leonard mutters.

"With the short tunic and kinky boots?" Howard holds up his hands in the face of the most unVulcan glare. "Sorry, the authentic TOS era Starfleet uniform."

"With Penny's colouring, I suggested that she should be Nurse Chapel." Sheldon is trying to keep his face suitably impassive, but his eyes keep darting towards the door. "Then we have a representative of the Medical Services in our landing party."

"You could have been Sarek and Amanda." Raj, the closet romantic, says.

"Sarek was never a member of Starfleet." Sheldon can't imagine Penny behaving with the cool circumspection and restraint befitting an Ambassador's wife, anyway.

Howard wonders whether to share his suggestion about Orion slave-girls. Thinks about Sheldon's probable reaction, and keeps quiet. Thinks instead about Bernadette – she would make the cutest little Ensign, if he could ever persuade her... Sighs. He's just going to have to be a good wingman for his buddy Raj this year. And they are both going to have to look out for Leonard.

There's a brief knock at the door to herald Penny's arrival, and Leonard, the nearest, opens it, backs up with a startled yelp.

Penny lets them get a good look at her. Then she gives them a fanged grin and raises her bat'leth.

"Qapla'!"

"Can you even _have_ a blonde Klingon?" Raj hisses.

"You can now."

Sheldon catches up his jaw. Vulcans do not smirk. But they can convey a wealth of meaning in one carefully raised eyebrow.

"Fascinating." He says, happily.

Penny thinks it's worth the uncomfortable bumpy forehead thing for that look on his face. She knows she makes one kick-ass warrior, and the Klingons always looked like they had more fun anyhow. She swaggers across the room.

"Well, set phasers to stunning..."

She bares her teeth at Howard.

"Hab SoSlI' Quch!"

Well, Sheldon hadn't taught her _that_ phrase. The accent might be questionable, but the sentiment is clear.

Leonard is trying hard not to laugh. It's so absolutely perfect for them both. Logic and repression and intellect on the one side, and volatile emotion on the other. Still has a little pang when he sees them together, but Sheldon is happier than he has ever known him.

00000000

Sheldon never sleeps well in hotel rooms, even though he has remade the bed with his own sheets.

Previous years, previous conventions, they have been a small, self-contained group, squeezing in on the edge of gatherings, and Sheldon had watched in bemusement as the other three failed in their attempts to attract women. This year, he had started the evening as usual, standing uncomfortably by the wall, and wishing for the quiet of his room. But things are different, now, and everything has changed. He has Penny. Her infectious enthusiasm and her bright laugh cause many to overlook the fact that she can't speak the language and has only the vaguest idea of canon. She is not above flirting to get her own way, and she has an unerring instinct for a party...

"Sheldon! I met these cool guys, they call themselves the House of Korgoth, and they say we can be honorary warriors for the evening, they've got a table over by the bar..."

So Sheldon had found himself hauled into a boisterous group of Klingons. It reminded him quite horribly of Gig and his football buddies, and he instinctively braced himself. But the gloved hands that clap his shoulder are friendly, and there's quite a lot of amusement at the fact that he's the one correcting Penny's cheerful mangling of the names...

There is a soft growl, and a nip on his collar-bone, which jerks him out of his musing.

"Ow..."

"Don't be a baby." She kisses the offended spot. "You were the one that told me I'm supposed to bite you."

"Perhaps we can forgo _that_ level of authenticity."

There's a dirty little giggle.

"Yeah, and none of this 'once every seven years' crap, either..."

"Penny..."

But he gives up, because there is nothing logical in his reaction to her, and he is all too human.

_(And if Penny does do a little Orion-style dance for him later, that's nobody else's business but theirs.)_


	17. Happy Turkey Day

The ad was a little local commercial, for a small chain of grocery stores. But the lead actress had freaked out on set, and the apparently placid stunt turkey had turned into a flailing, angry ball of beak and feathers. It had probably, in the dim depths of its little avian brain, felt some kind of solidarity with its doomed brethren, whom it was betraying with this commercial jollity. Anyhow, it had made a determined bid for freedom. Long dormant instinct had kicked in, and one of the extras had tackled the bird competently, and soothed it.

Which was how Penny wound up wearing the perky satin hat, and the very short dress, and tying a yellow ribbon round the neck of a turkey completely out of its head on bird tranq's. Something in the expression of beady-eyed affront and the long neck makes her think of Sheldon.

He complains about the inaccuracy of her costume, of course. (Though the file is saved on his hard-drive, wrapped in loving encryption.)

And Penny knows that she is being ridiculous, and sentimental, and not at all the hard-headed farm-girl she was raised to be, but they have beef chow mein for Thanksgiving Dinner.


	18. Welcome to my Nightmare

She has managed to wash the last of the carmine liquid out of the sink, but she knows that she will never get the stains out of at least two of her towels, crimson splotches soaked deep. She'll have to ask Sheldon, he knows how to clean everything...

"Hold still, Penny, or this line of stitches will be crooked." He bends his gaze back to her arm. "According to canon, you should be able to sew your own arm back on."

Penny grins at him.

"Yeah, but I'm not as good with a needle as you."

Sheldon's own smile back is creepily enhanced by the stark hollows under his cheekbones. That old 'Doppler effect' costume has been given a new lease of life, tailored into tight pants and a ragged tail-coat.

He delicately inks in the lines, his eyes intent in their dark pits, his long fingers very pale against the grey-green of her skin, featherlight against her collar-bone. The light reflects off the smooth, pale dome of his head. She can see the faint line of the skull cap, but only because he is close enough for her to feel his breath across her skin.

In the interests of authenticity, Sheldon had insisted that the stitches go all the way down. Though he finds himself a little distracted by the fact that Penny has found an underwear set with little pink bats on.

He doesn't care if she doesn't wear make-up, or wears baggy tee's. Which isn't to say that she can't short his brain out with pretty lingerie. He's a normal man, in some respects. But it's the fact that it is her in the little bits of silk that really matters.

Penny draws in a deep breath, which causes interesting things to happen to the pink bats. Sheldon pauses, then continues with a commendably steady hand. She smirks. He tilts a frown, but the edge of his mouth twitches.

She holds her hair up, bends her head forward as he draws the line around her neck.

"Traditional Japanese culture holds that the nape of the neck is one of the most erotic places on a woman's body..."

She believes him, her breath hitching as the low murmur brushes against her skin.

Lets her hair tumble down across her shoulders again, the colour of it strange to her own eyes. She doesn't like wigs, would rather wreck a towel with hair-dye than suffer a hot, itchy scalp all night.

Catches sight of herself in her mirror, black lines of ink and silk against her flesh, the mane of red-brown hair, and her eyes dazed and dark.

If anyone had ever told her that she would find herself turned on by a geek drawing on her with a marker pen, she'd have told them they were crazy. But she guesses crazy is catching.

Sheldon kneels down, traces a line up the side of her calf, and she grins, rests her other foot up on his shoulder. She sees him exerting iron control.

"Penny..." Low warning note, that pools somewhere deep inside her.

"Sheldon..." She teases back.

She's wearing the pair of striped socks that she stole out of the laundry. Sheldon frowns, but doesn't comment. He has become (almost) resigned to the pillaging of socks and t-shirts. Penny likes to wear his pyjama jackets, too – and getting them back is always fun. He steadies his hand with an effort, and continues to mark sharp black lines against the soft curve of her thigh.

"That's the last one." He sounds a little breathless, and she smirks at him.

The real fun will be washing all the make-up off later. Sheldon is always very thorough. He doesn't like baths, they are her solitary luxury – but he'll kneel by the side of the tub, and wash her back. And her front.

He'll insist on a shower afterwards, too. The first time she'd simply got into the shower with him, he'd tried to complain. The argument that it saves both time and water doesn't actually work, he's proved that with equations and graphs, but that never stops her, and he's given up protesting, because he likes his back washed, too...

...If she thinks about this too long, they'll never make it out to the party.

She slips into the patchwork dress, smoothing it over her hips. And the cutest little pair of pointy ankle boots to finish the outfit. Holds his shoulder for balance, and still fits neatly beneath his chin.

He is black and white, planes and angles, hard polarity. She is curves and colour, sinuous lines against soft skin.

He watches her do her make-up, mascara and eyeshadow, smoky blues and greys that make her eyes look enormous, the dark stain on her lips. She turns her face trustingly up, lets him mark a smile as wide as his own on her, and one last line across her brow.

She can't resist a kiss, though, because the darkness of his own lips hides a multitude of sins, and Sheldon can never, will never, resist being kissed.

He still lectures, and she still rolls her eyes, but he's grown accustomed to the feel of her fingers lacing with his, impatient tug on his hand to steer him around, or being swung to a stop. To small, sudden kisses up under his ear, regardless of location or audience.

She straightens the wired bat's-wings of his spreading collar, and he crooks one bony elbow for her. Then Jack Skellington and his Sally go forth, to amuse and bemuse the world.


	19. Moon River

"Of _course_...I might even venture to say 'Eureka'..."

Sheldon Cooper, putting the moon into Moon-pie, skids to a sudden halt in front of his whiteboard and starts scribbling frantically.

A sleepy Penny, in a hastily buttoned pyjama jacket that is clearly not her own, comes into the living room after him, clutching the matching pants.

"At least put these on, honey..."

"Thank you." He steps into them, absent-minded and awkward, tugs them up one-handed, eyes still fixed on the board. Penny sighs fondly, gives him a little hug from behind, presses a kiss between his shoulder-blades.

"My crazy man." She says, against his skin. "I'm going back to bed."

"I'll fetch you coffee later." He says. "If you promise not to punch me."

"Coffee cancels out punching." She agrees. "Maybe breakfast, too?" She adds, hopefully.

Sheldon darts a last swift equation across the board.

"You cannot have pancakes in bed again, Penny. You got syrup on the sheets last time."

"That wasn't my fault." Raises her eyebrows, false innocence. Sheldon flushes, and she laughs up at him. Then she yawns, kisses his spine again, and turns to go back to bed.

Sheldon carefully sets an alarm on his watch, and then goes back to contemplating his work with a broad smile of satisfaction. Nailed it.

Then, abruptly, his spine stiffens. Turns, eyes narrowed.

"Penny, that's _my_ pyjama jacket..."

"Come and get it, then" She throws back over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

Sheldon blinks at her, and then suddenly, his face lights up, happy comprehension. His eyes narrow again.

"Woman, you are messing with forces..." And lunges across the room at her, sudden and fast. She squeals, dodges his long arms by the barest margin.

She lets him corner her in the bedroom, which was kinda the point, and he stalks towards her until she collapses back onto the bed.

"You have your _own_ pyjamas, Penny." Suave menace, a predatory smirk.

"But I like wearing - yours." Her breath hitches, as the last button surrenders to deft fingers. She props onto her elbows, fabric falling away from her body. He likes that look on her face, when she stares up at him, wide wicked eyes and biting her lip, her blonde hair spread across his pillows.

She might be a Big Ol' Five, but Sheldon Cooper is no slouch either, once he makes his mind up...

00000000

Left behind them, back at the kitchen counter...

"Yeah..." Howard nods, refills Leonard's coffee cup, "I can see why you might be thinking about moving out."

Leonard, arms wrapped round his head and his face on the counter, merely grunts.

Raj still has half a bagel sticking out of his mouth, and a slightly pop-eyed expression.

"Has Sheldon been working out?" He blurts.

"Must be all that sword-swinging, if you know what I mean..." Howard says, cheerfully, working his eyebrows. Leonard and Raj both stare at him.

"I don't even _want _to know..." Leonard puts his face back on the counter. "I _told_ you we should have gone to IHOP."


	20. Weapon of Choice

She finds it quite ironic that her big break comes playing a waitress.

It's only a scene in a pilot, and she knows how these things go, but at least it's a paying job. The hero is an investigative journalist who fetches up in a roadside diner late one night, where there is flirty snark over ordering a burger. Urban academic type out of his depth meets sassy down-to-earth waitress. Until the werewolf kicks the door in.

Screaming and cowering down behind the banquette while hero-guy does the face off seems kinda lame. Her instinct is to grab something and swing. Tim the fight arranger is quite patiently going over the fight choreography yet again. Penny watches from the edge of the set. Since she knows from personal experience how dangerous a skinny geek with weaponry can be, she doesn't have any trouble with the idea of a badass brainiac, but whilst hero-guy is a sweetie, he wouldn't last five minutes against any of the Horde, bless him. However, Tim has just demonstrated a dirty little trick that she thinks might come in handy some time...

"Miss...Sorensen?" Older guy, headset, battered jeans and workboots, sweater that is pure dumpster chic, carrying coffee. "I brought it white, no sugar, that okay?"

Penny is touched – normally, the runners don't bother so much for bit parts.

"Thanks." Warms her hands gratefully on the cup.

(Penny herself is always polite to the runners and the catering staff – having waited on assholes who treated her like part of the furniture, she knows how much that sucks. Plus, y'know, she knows exactly what could happen to her coffee.)

"How are you finding the shoot?"

"Oh, it's fun." She grins. "Though if dog-boy came at me, I'd beat hell out of him with a chair. He kinda reminds me of an ex-boyfriend."

Coffee Guy laughs.

"You think the scene would work better that way?"

Penny shrugs.

"Trust me, you screw with a waitress' tips, and she'll drop you." Peers at her coffee, and thinks about it. "I dunno, maybe I'd just like to be more than the screaming blonde victim here."

He's looking at her, but thoughtfully, now.

"You were in that cleaning commercial, weren't you?" He says, suddenly. "Battling some germ-monster."

Penny straightens her shoulders. That had paid the month's rent. And if emoting at a tennis-ball on a string is good enough for Sir Ian McKellan...

"Yeah." She says, flat and final. "I'm better with a battle-axe than a longsword, but quarterstaffs are kinda cool..." She gives him her best Queen Penelope smirk, fast and feral. He grins back, unabashed.

"Can you shoot, too?"

"Mostly shotguns, though my boyfriend has a crossbow."

"He's a hunter?"

"He's a..." Lunatic. Genius. Survivalist nutcase. "...scientist, actually. But he's just the type of guy who'll watch this show."

"Hmm." Coffee Guy nods, eyes narrowed, and then he taps his headset. "Tim? I want to try something different with this scene."

A little voice in the back of Penny's brain that has been screaming at her for the last couple of minutes finally gets her attention, and she nearly drops her cup.

Coffee Guy might look like he dresses in the dark and doesn't get enough sleep, but he's sure as hell not a lowly runner. He smiles at her.

"Miss Sorensen, how would you feel about beating up my werewolf for me?"

00000000

When she'd pictured herself getting a tv role, it was always something glamorous. Pretty clothes, daylight shoot, hair and nails and make-up immaculate, opposite a handsome leading man. Not driving a battered pickup through a forest at night, liberally spattered with fake blood and coffee, and with a pack of monsters on her trail.

The new script is a little different. Urban academic type gets his life saved by sassy down-to-earth waitress, and they end up on the run from the pack together. There's a lot less screaming, and a lot more snark. But arguing the existence of cryptids and government conspiracies and ufos whilst driving a bossy opinionated nutcase around doesn't even require her to act, really.

The pilot gets picked up for a short first season.

Sheldon celebrates by buying her a bright pink Vixen II crossbow. She wonders what it says about him, her, them, that she finds it oddly endearing, rather than at all surprising.


	21. There Ain't No Sanity Clause

There Ain't No Sanity Clause...

.

.

Penny knew she should have backed out of this, the first opportunity she got.

"Why did I let you talk me into this?" She hisses to Beth.

"Because if I have to wear a tiny little skirt and pointy ears in public, so do you."

"Should I be worried that I borrowed the pointy ears from my boyfriend?" Penny hides her face in her hands. "There is nothing not wrong with that sentence."

"Hey, _my_ husband is dressed up as an old fat man."

"It's for the children." Sven reminds them, smugly resplendent in his crimson robes. "We do appreciate this, Penny."

"Yeah, not everyone can pull off the elf look."

They both contemplate Mrs Guzman and Mr Fuller, both excellent teachers, and very good with children. But... Penny shudders.

"Yeah."

The little kids don't mind what Santa's little helpers look like, though, so long as they get their turn in the grotto. (Though some of the fathers are covertly appreciative.)

00000000

This year, Sheldon had actually attended the Departmental Christmas Party. Penny had breezed into the room, towing him with her.

"I'm sorry we're late, but we had car trouble. There was one really tight nut that needed loosening."

Nobody mentions the tiny smudge of lipstick on Sheldon's collar, but he's certainly a lot more amiable than might be expected. (Dr Gablehauser makes a mental note to include her in every invite that he can in future. Not only is she easier on the eyes than most of the faculty and their partners, but she manages the superhuman feat of making Cooper tolerable.)

Sheldon likes to buy things for Penny. Sasha at the florists always makes sure the blooms are unblemished and properly wrapped. It is a new addition to the weekly routine. There were some earrings, which were an impulse purchase, surprising them both. (Though he has another purchase from the jewellery store tucked away, awaiting the optimal moment. He wasn't lying about wanting to meet her parents.) But Christmas shopping is a new level. He has thought long and hard about this, and has made a decision. However, now he is faced with a great many other choices. He frowns.

00000000

Marla hates the run up to Christmas, she really does. All the magazines can refer to this place as 'an exclusive boutique, catering for a woman's most intimate desires', but, get real, it's a shop and they sell panties. Mostly hand-stitched, silk or Egyptian cotton, panties, but still.

You gotta keep an eye on the weird ones. Suki catches her eye, points. Marla narrows her own eyes, but Suki slides off, and leaves her to deal with the guy. Tall, thin, and dressed in a comic book tee, he has been hovering round for a few minutes. She's fairly sure nothing has gone into his pockets, but...

"Can I help you, sir?" She's nearly six foot tall _without_ her heels, and the glacial tones tend to send the creepers running.

He turns to face her, and he doesn't blush or stutter, his serious expression warming. He's got quite a nice face, actually.

"Thank you." His eyes sweep up and down, but before she can be offended, he says, "Yes, you are the right approximate size..."

"Excuse me?"

"...though my girlfriend Penny is blonde, being of MidWestern heritage."

He's for real. Oddly, the little tut and frown remind her of Mr Fishman, her tenth grade chem teacher.

"I am endeavouring to buy her a gift appropriate to our now-intimate relationship, and it was suggested that this might be a suitable step up from bath products..."

Clueless, but harmless. He's too polite to be truly offensive.

"Have you seen anything you like?"

He frowns slightly, bewildered.

"I rather think the idea should be to find something that Penny would like."

Marla's smile warms into something more genuine. If she can save one girl from the horror of scarlet and black lace this Christmas, she'll do it.

"Well, that's a good place to start..."

"Oh, I hung her underwear up on a telephone line once." He says, cheerfully. "I have a good idea of her colour preferences."

Yeah, you really have to keep an eye on the weird ones...

00000000

Raj is a Hindu, and Howard is Jewish. This doesn't prevent either of them from participating in the non-religious aspects of the Christmas season. (Raj actually likes eggnog.) Though since Bernadette, it does mean that Howard won't be combining both elements of the phrase 'charm offensive', and stalking the halls with mistletoe this year. There's a complicated deal being brokered, involving Mass, dim sum and whether or not Bernadette can put fairy lights on the Hannukah bush, but the mothers have met and bonded quite terrifyingly over the ingratitude of their children. Bernadette has actually been looking forward to going to work today, and Howard is wondering whether Raj will share the eggnog. Just now, they are forging their way through the Christmas shoppers. Raj skids to a halt, and Howard trips into him, cranes to see what has caught his friend's attention.

They are used to seeing Sheldon escorted off various premises. But usually by Security personnel. Not by a leggy brunette, who gives him a friendly pat on the arm.

Sheldon sees them, and heads across, actually smiling. Howard stares at the logo on the bag.

"...I'm forbidden to go within fifty feet of that place."

"I found the staff there to be very helpful." Sheldon is pleased with himself. "They were very accommodating about displaying the items for me."

A pulse begins to beat in Howard's forehead. Raj makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

"Well, I couldn't buy such items sight unseen, obviously. Marla had correct measurements, but Natalie had the more representative skin tone." He smiles. "It was quite a pleasant experience."

"...quite...pleasant..." Raj croaks. Howard snaps.

"You just strolled into... and persuaded...no, there has to be a 'bazinga' in here. Tell me there's a 'bazinga', Sheldon!"

Sheldon stares down in mild horror at the frenzied engineer, who is gripping his jacket with what seems to be quite unnecessary violence.

"I fail to see where the prank would be."

And that's the biggest joke of all, Howard knows. Two beautiful women have been helping Sheldon..._Sheldon..._pick out who-knows-what (but he can certainly imagine, ohgod) and the guy won't even have cared. Because the only woman he notices in that way is Penny.

"Raj, gimme the damn eggnog."

00000000

Leonard is in New Jersey, staying with his father and Grace.

Jenna, Grace's daughter, is home from college, and she greets Leonard with a smile, and a small hug, "because I guess you're sort of my brother now." (His actual sister hasn't hugged him since they were toddlers.)

There's a real tree, which Leonard helps to lug into the back of a dilapidated station wagon, and a box of slightly battered decorations fetched down out of the attic, including blobby home-made kindergarten efforts. They even spend an evening making strings of popped corn and dried cranberries to hang up, which is something Leonard has never done. He watches his father, fisherman's hands carefully and deftly threading, laughing as Grace wrestles a length of tinsel from the puppy, who thinks this is all a great game. Jenna rescues a pan of cookies from the oven, with a cry of alarm, but the slightly burnt ones make a good distraction from the tinsel. Everything's a little chaotic, and slightly shabby, but it is warm, and there's a lot of laughter.

And to think, for this, he'd turned down an invitation to read a paper on 'The impact of poor self-esteem on interpersonal relationships' and a nutritious and balanced repast with the rest of his biological family. Leonard grins, and takes another handful of corn.

00000000

The last child has been escorted from the grotto, and the school hall is a seething mass of families. Beth relaxes slightly, tips her hat back.

"So, are you visiting your folks for Christmas this year?"

"Yeah." Penny bites her lip. "I'm taking Sheldon to meet them."

"Wow." Beth blinks. "You're getting serious, huh?"

Penny takes a little breath, and nods.

Penny had considered the question of whether she should take Sheldon with her. The mere fact of it says things, serious things, about what she thinks – but she doesn't know how Sheldon sees the situation.

"I am an integral part of your life." Is the response she should have predicted. "I would hope that you would find me acceptable to introduce to your parents." But the big blue eyes are nervous. "What have I done incorrectly?"

"Nothing." She puts her arms round him. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to visit Nebraska."

"I have no real desire to visit Nebraska. But I do want to meet your family." He tics slightly. "It has to be better than six hours of prayer, and dry fruitcake."

'Dry' is the last adjective Penny would use about her family and Christmas. But maybe it's better that Sheldon meets the crazy head on, realises what he's getting into. And none of _her_ family ever died by badger, anyway.

The jointly addressed Christmas cards have been a bit of a surprise. She gets a funny little swoop in her stomach, seeing their names bracketed together in the various handwritings. Especially the one signed 'all my love, Meemaw.'

It hadn't been anything special, the meal. Just supper for the two of them, and an early night, because she'd got an opening shift, and Sheldon had a faculty meeting. So, strictly one glass of wine each with the meal – he's persuaded that just one won't take him straight down the path of damnation, and she finds that she appreciates the taste again, now she doesn't need to take the edge off the world any more. She'd been draining a panful of noodles, her phone tucked up into her shoulder as she talked to her mother, and she'd just looked across the room. Sheldon, in khakis and his favourite Superman tee, had been eyeballing the cutlery as he laid the table.

It had been so...domestic. And she wonders when she stopped feeling trapped and freaked out by the idea.

"Penny...Penny...Penny..."

And there _is_ Sheldon, who has somehow acquired a very small person, clutching one pants leg and snuffling miserably.

"Penny, I wasn't good at getting along with small children even when I was one." Sheldon mutters, eyes wide and frantic.

It's the t-shirts, Penny decides. Bright, friendly colours. Plus, small children, like cats, seem to be drawn to the people most freaked out by them.

Sven had persuaded them both to come and talk about their work at the school, once. Penny had thought that watching Sheldon talk about science to a classroom full of eight year olds had been about the most precious thing she had ever seen. Especially once Sheldon had spotted a 'Superman' lunchbox.

But whilst Sheldon likes the idea of progeny, in the abstract, smaller versions of himself that he can inculcate with his theories, his bloodline and ideas carried forward, the reality, noise and mess and bodily fluids, has proved to be far less enticing. He likes them when they are old enough to think and talk (and sit and listen to him with the appropriate amount of awe and reverence.) A very small, snotty bundle of coat does not figure in the picture.

The small person has lost 'Mommy' somewhere in the crush of the school hall. Penny has a brainwave.

"If Sheldon lifted you up onto his shoulders, do you think you could spot your mom from up there?"

The child tilts her head right back to look all the way up the thin man. He's _very_ tall.

"Yes." She says with confidence.

"Penny..."

"Just lift her up in the air, Sheldon." Lowers her voice. "If she can't see her mother, someone will be able to see her."

After insisting that the child submits to antiseptic wipes on face and hands, which Penny readily agrees to, Sheldon very reluctantly bends his knees, and encounters the new sensation of a small, warm person clambering up him. He is not convinced that his ears were ever meant to be used as handholds, but his passenger is finding the sudden elevation a little alarming, and clutches on tightly.

But there is screech, and he coughs, grabs a couple of ankles as they kick frantically against his breast-bone.

"Mommy, mommy, I see mommy..."

A very relieved woman forges her way through the crowd, and Sheldon gets fingers in the eye as the child scrambles off him and into waiting arms. Sheldon, busily using the last of the wipes to remove a footprint from his clothing, is vaguely aware of their conversation, turns an offended face towards Penny.

"You told her I was a _playworker_, Penny."

Penny waves brightly at the departing child, who is waving back, all panic forgotten now.

"It was better than telling her that you were my mad scientist boyfriend who just snuck in here to ogle me in my elf outfit."

Sheldon is still spluttering his outrage when Penny pulls his head down to shut him up the best way she knows how.

He decides that Penny does indeed make an adorable elf.


	22. Love and Capes

The New Year's Eve Party at the Comic Store has rolled around again. This year, it's...louder than usual. In addition to the usual suspects, Stuart has invited Raquel, and since Penny and Sheldon are a done deal, too, this means the rest of the StormFist posse, who can scent a party the way sharks scent blood, take the opportunity to dress up...well, pretty much the way they do most weekends, to be honest.

Stuart, dressed as the Fourth Doctor again, seems to have acquired a Leela this year. Raquel gives Penny a wink, and stalks towards her prey. She's actually slightly _less_ dressed up than usual, since she's not wearing green paint and horns today.

Sheldon has been persuaded to retire the Flash costume, because Sven has a really cool costume idea for them all to wear, claims it is culturally significant for him, an excuse which makes both Beth and Penny narrow their eyes, but you can't really argue with a six foot plus blond guy with a name like Sven Gustavsen.

So, basically, a bunch of Asgardian warriors crash the party. Beth makes a kickass Sif to Sven's Thor. Calum, Dan and Si are a shoe-in as the Warriors Three, and Tay is Heimdall ("About time we had a black dude represent, yo.") As for her – Penny swirls her cape, and gets her strut on. Sigyn translates as 'Victorious Girlfriend', and she can live with that. The acid green Manolos set the whole outfit off perfectly, anyway, and she hasn't had to dye her hair. Also, she thinks that yeah, Sheldon might well empathize with a hyper-intelligent younger son who got passed over for his popular jock older brother, but damn, he looks seriously good in that helmet.


	23. Soft Kitty

Originally, the idea was for Penny to move into 4A. It made sense – she spent more time there than she did in her own apartment, after all. It was logical, economical, and the least disruptive of options.

So quite how they come to be moving into a slightly shabby little Craftsman bungalow near the University is never quite clear. But with Sheldon's increased professorial salary, and Penny's semi-regular tv role, it isn't a financial stretch, and Penny still gets a secret kick out of signing 'Mrs Penny Cooper' on things. They've been there a week, when Penny finds herself running out of the kitchen in response to a muffled yell from Sheldon.

She bursts in through the door of his study, expecting anything from a papercut to a flame-war about forks, to find Sheldon engaged in a staring contest with a small black kitten. Well, he's glaring at it. It merely blinks lazily back, then marches unevenly across his keyboard, and uses him a stepping stone to the ground.

"It sprang in through the window like a veritable panther, Penny." Sheldon is rather belatedly pulling the sash down. "It's the vanguard of a feline horde, I just know it."

"It's one kitten, Sheldon. A tiny, harmless kitten."

Penny crouches down, and rubs the furry little head butting at her ankles. It winds around her hand, purring like a small motor, then heads past her for the living room.

"Penny, stop it, stop it...oh, good lord."

The kitten has jumped up onto the end of the couch, paddles lazily at the striped cushion.

"It's in my spot."

"It's adorable."

"It's evil."

Sheldon glares. In the way of cats everywhere, the kitten promptly flings up a leg and washes it's bottom at him. She thinks that he's going to stroke out right there. His jaw sets with purpose.

"We are _not_ keeping it, Penny."

...

Due to what Sheldon refers to as a 'satanic disposition', and a bad habit of sitting in doorways and letting the heat out, they call it Maxwell.


End file.
